


You're My Favourite

by HystericalHerbs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And Maybe Something More, Androgyny, BITCHIN', Best Friends, Don't Mess With a Slytherin's BFF, Fluff, Hufflepuff and Slytherin personified, Original Character-centric, Other, Slytherpuff, someone needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HystericalHerbs/pseuds/HystericalHerbs
Summary: Harper is in the dumps and is thinking about canceling on her and Spencer's trip to Hogsmeade. Spencer thinks that they can persuade Harper otherwise.





	You're My Favourite

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm big on Slytherpuff friendships. I am 100% a Hufflepuff, and most of my friend group consist of Slytherins, and we rock it. I thought it would be fun to write some scenes featuring two characters that I made up to embody Slytherin and Hufflpuff. Quick disclaimer: There are many variations of traits that fit people into their house. Harper and Spencer are just two of many possible interpretations. I love them all, but I've got to be distinct here. I'm not saying that everyone in Hufflepuff can get mopey like Harper is in this scene, or that everyone in Slytherin is androgynous like Spencer. Hopefully that's already obvious. <3   
> (And yes. This was inspired by Stranger Things.)
> 
> Also, I'd love scene suggestions for these guys if you can think of any.

Agitation rising, Harper looked at the clothing strewn across her bedding. Harper chewed her lip and looked at some of the discarded outfits that her roommates hadn't put away as they decided how to dress for Hogsmeade. Not that anyone would mind her borrowing a stylish cardigan or rock-and-roll type pair of jeans, but her roommates weren't around to ask. And time was ticking. Spencer would be impatient by now.

  
    Harper looked into the mirror, eyes greener with the red that had risen around them. There was nothing to appreciate in the reflection. Her usually lively thick mop of hair hung in choked curls above her shoulders. Her lips were chapped and thinned, and she'd never realized how unflattering her favourite yellow knit sweater was over her hips. Harper lifted herself up, narrowing her eyes and pumping out her chest boldly. It was exhausting to even try. Her power pose deflated, and she plopped onto the bed, and promptly curled up in it. Spencer would be so disappointed, but Harper couldn't imagine going out feeling like she was. At least not happily. Was she always such a drag?

  
    A sizzling sound came from the parchment rolled up in Harper's pocket. She pulled it out and watched the words crawl across it in that messy, but effortlessly cool scrawl that Spencer had.

  
    Two words: 'Chop chop.'

  
    Harper set the parchment beside her and put the knuckle of her thumb to her bottom lip as she stared at it. Dreading having to respond. Five minutes later more words appeared:

  
    'What's up?'

  
    Harper buried her face in her quilt wearily for a second and then reached heavily for the quill and ink on her bedside table.

  
    'I kind of don't want to go. Just feeling off,' Harper responded on the parchment beneath Spencer's writing, and waited.

  
    'Unacceptable.'

  
    Harper pushed the shouting word away from her and pulled her legs up to her chest.

  
    The door opened, and footsteps crossed the room, stopping at the end of her bed. Harper stayed as she was, noting the impatient energy that Spencer gave off.

  
    "Are you feeling sorry for yourself?" Spencer said.

  
    "No." Harper looked up at Spencer miserably and squinted at them. They wore high quality black jeans that bunched nicely around their knees, and a long fitted shirt that was loose around their shoulders, but tight around their arms. Just as cool as always.

  
     "Yes you are. Why?" Spencer asked flippantly.

  
    Harper sucked in her cheeks and looked away. She was not feeling sorry for herself.

  
    "Harper," Spencer prompted.

  
    "I just…" Harper swallowed thickly, eyes pricking. "I don't feel like it."

  
    "We planned our trip to Hogsmeade months ago, man," Spencer said. They sounded irritated. "You got me all psyched off of your own excited juices–you wouldn't stop talking about it. How come you don't want to go all the sudden?"

  
     Harper gritted her teeth. Right, because Spencer was the only one allowed to cancel their plans when they were having a rotten day. She sat up, kicking the nest of blankets away from her and turning to Spencer, hair sticking up in wild curls on one side of her head and flattened on the other. 

"Can I just not feel like doing something, and be upset and miserable because I am- just for once?" Harper wanted to sound bold. Angry. But her voice broke, and that seemed to cue the silent tears that slipped over her burning cheeks. She scrubbed at them, furious with herself.

  
    Spencer's arms unfolded, their perfectly winged eyes loosing their edge. "Shit, Harper. You could have just told me." They sat at the end of Harper's bed, watching and waiting.

  
    Harper's anger died and she looked away. Her lip trembled once, and then not at all. Tears and misery swallowed down to sit like a stone in her chest. "Sorry," she mumbled, feeling like such a mess. Harper thought she saw Spencer's slender eyebrows come down and together.

  
     "No." Spencer leaned forward, forcing Harper to look at them. Their dark eyes were sincere. "Harper, if you feel like shit, that's how you feel. You don't have to apologize to anyone for that."

  
    "I just feel like such a loser," Harper choked, the tears brimming over again. "And I know I shouldn't–"

  
    "Because you're fucking not."

  
    "–but I've felt like I can't do anything right this week. Academically, socially, as a human being. And then with Jessie and Meg dropping our date together only to find them studying together with Terrance and Michael in the library…" Harper shook her head, unable to tell Spencer that they had also been laughing about her. Maybe they were only doing so lightly, not really intending to be mean.  Harper wouldn't have been hurt if she'd been there, she often made fun of herself for the very reasons that the group had been joking about. But the fact remained-they were laughing at her, not with her.

  
    "I don't want to go out, I look stupid," she finished lamely.

  
    Spencer obviously hadn't missed the hurt that flashed across Harper's features. Spencer's knuckles whitened.

  
    "Stay here." Spencer demanded. "I'll be right back," Spencer stood gracefully and walked briskly out of the dormitory, probably to return to their Slytherin chambers for a moment

  
    It wasn't strange now for inter-house friends to be invited into each other's houses. Allegedly, Slytherins in the Hufflepuff dormitory had at first gotten a lot of double takes. But after the War of Hogwarts, the boundaries that students held for themselves between houses were lowered. News of Slytherin students protecting the first years in the dungeons got around, and Hufflepuffs were some of the first to reject the bad reputation that Salazaar and a number of individuals had drawn up for Slytherin students.

  
    Harper was glad that the bigotry between houses had mostly been abolished. Spencer was her greatest friend, and though Spencer seemed to have a hard time saying so explicitly, Harper knew that they felt the same about her.

  
    When Spencer return, they carried some folded articles of clothing and a red make-up bag.

  
    "I'm not going to be your doll," Harper sniffed, eyeing the clothing and make-up warily.

  
    Within minutes, Spencer was getting Harper to try on different outfits, turning this way and that in front of the mirror.

  
    "No, take off the leggings." Spencer said, stalking circles around her.

  
    "They're warm."

  
    "Don't argue. Try these."

  
    Harper received a pair of pants in the face–faded dark jeans with folded details down the thighs. Spencer paired it with a white concert T-shirt from the Weird sisters, and a long black blazer with tails. They rolled up Harper's sleeves to her elbow and completed the look with a clip-on collar to put beneath the shirt, and black leather bracelets around Harper's wrists. It was a good thing that Spencer had learned a complex tailoring spell that had been passed down through their family for generations, because Spencer's clothing was all made for somebody tall and slim. Harper was quite a bit more more rounded in her hips than Spencer, and shorter than average.

  
    Spencer scrutinized Harper's sullen reflection. "Lift your arms a sec."

  
    Harper did as she was told and Spencer attacked her underarms with tickles. Intensely ticklish, Harper danced away, but Spencer was too fast. She fell beneath Spencer's fluttering fingers onto her bed, eyes streaming with laughter as she tried to protect herself. "Stop, stop! I'm going to pee."

  
    Spencer grinned and poked the dimples in Harper's cheeks. "Better. Okay, now give me your face," said Spencer, standing to retrieve her make-up bag.

  
    Harper turned to Spencer and made a stupid face. "You can't have it, it's the only one I own."

  
    Spencer snorted and flipped Harper the bird. "Glad to see you're feeling more like yourself." They approached her with a palette of dark eyeshadow and small makeup brush. "Look down."

  
    Harper did, and her eyelids were stroked by the soft hairs of the brush. Then she felt her eyebrows being filled out, and her hair fiddled with.

  
    "Is all of this necessary?" Harper asked, avoiding looking directly into the mirror as Spencer painted her lips red. She received a pinch of irritation for talking during the process and Spencer had to wiped away the spot of lipstick that had smeared.

  
    "I swear, you've got the cutest kitten face in the history of faces," Spencer said, reapplying the red to Harper's lips and moving on to trace her eyes with a black liner. "Seriously, it's like I have to cast a dimming charm just to see you clearly past its brilliance–Merlin, Harper, would you stop smiling? You're going all squinty– I'm turning you into the sexy cat that lurks beneath all your sickly sweetness."

  
    Spencer dabbed and blended a little longer at Harper's face, took a step back to admire the result, and gave an affirming nod. "Check yourself out, alley-cat."

  
    Harper looked in the mirror, and slowly stood. Her green eyes smouldered mysteriously in the velvet midnight painted around them and her hair fell in wild, lively curls. The vibe she gave off was something dark and dangerous. Spencer rose beside her in the mirror, and for once, Harper felt like maybe people would look at her first as they passed in the corridors or down the sidewalks. Either way, they looked like they had just come off of an edgy catwalk and were about to go on a mission to do something reckless, and probably illegal. It was empowering.

  
     "I look…" Harper began, pausing to find the words.

  
    "Bitchin'." Spencer finished for her.

  
     "Hey, hey Spence." Harper said, taking Spencer's hand and giving it a squeeze. She met their eyes in the mirror.

  
    "What?"

  
    "You're my favourite," Harper twisted her head, lifted herself on her tip toes, and placed a quick kiss on Spencer's cheek. Spencer blinked rapidly and looked down at Harper in surprise for a moment.

  
    Harper smiled and shoved Spencer towards the door. "Let's get going, there's so much I want to do today." 


End file.
